My dad played the concertina. Some call it a squeeze box. Mom and dad were children of Polish immigrants and knew how to party hard. Growing up, I watched as they hosted many a celebration in our modest home and I loved the joy of seeing my dad play his heart out to old Polish waltzes and polkas. He came from a family of 12 children so my childhood contained lots of cousins and uncles who took turns at the concertina with their rendition of polkas while my aunties filled our dining room with double-hop polka dancing. Add a little whiskey to the mix and you've got a loud shindig. Simple fun. I loved it. You can imagine my delight finding a concertina display in the Poland Wing at the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, AZ. Memories flooded my mind and I wished my cousin, Joyce, could be with me in that moment. She and I reminisce like crazy about our childhood--the Polish pierogis, Kolaczki cookies and Christmases in our gran...